Dagon slammed doors and stamped though the castle, his determined footsteps sounding more like an advancing legion of troops than one solitary man on a mission. And he was on a mission.
He had stretched to wakefulness, to reach out and wrap himself around Sarina, who had fallen asleep in his arms last night, only to find her gone yet again. And this time he was furious. He had intended to wake with her beside him this morning and take his time making love to her.
He had thought to make love to her last night, but when she had crawled with a yawn into his bed and he watched the droop of her tired eyes and the way she had settled into a comfortable cuddle against him, he understood she was exhausted from her eventful day and previous night and that sleep would soon claim her. With a promise to himself of an early morning romp, he slipped into a contented slumber, waking to find himself ready to fulfill his promise, only to find his desires once again quelled by her disappearance.
Dagon slammed several more doors, and when Ali popped out of her room, looking as though she had just dragged herself from bed, he yelled at her.
“Go back to your husband, this doesn’t concern you.”
She was about to protest his tyrannical attitude when she was yanked back into the room and the door slammed shut.
Dagon smiled, getting a small sense of satisfaction from Sebastian’s commanding action. He continued his search, grateful the early morning saw many still in their beds. The servants would have glowered with fright if they had seen him advancing through the halls and down the stairs, his dark hair looking wild and unkempt, his black silk robe hanging lose and near to open at his waist and him stark naked beneath.
Dawn had barely broken on the horizon, shadows and darkness played like haunting ghosts along the walls and filled the rooms, and Dagon moved with the grace and speed of a man who was friendly with both.
He found her in the kitchen, alone, wearing his white terry robe, her hands hugging a mug of hot tea, her head bent and her eyes shadowed with concern. His anger immediately cooled and his heart warmed.
“Sarina,” he called out to her softly, and she turned a gentle smile on him.
“I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to disturb you.”
He joined her at the table. “I don’t like waking and finding you gone.”
She spoke honestly. “I planned on returning after finishing my tea. I didn’t intend on you waking alone.”
“I’m glad to hear that, though I would have much preferred it worked out that way.”
“I’m sorry,” she said in a whisper and leaned over to place a tender kiss on his cheek.
He felt as if he should be apologizing, she appeared so forlorn and lonely. “What troubles your sleep?”
“Dreams that haunt.”
His hand went to rest on her arm. “Tell me of them.”
She shook her head slowly. “They are gone now and better left unspoken.”
“Are they gone or do you hide them?” he asked, her dark eyes filled with more truth than her words.
“I don’t wish to speak of them.”
“Too real, are they?”
She spoke with the confidence of one who knows. “Dreams are a gateway, and until a person is ready to enter that gateway, it is better that it is left closed.”
“So you will let these dreams haunt you?”
She laughed softly, almost teasingly. “I let you haunt me. He leaned close. “My haunts are pleasurable.”
She titled her head to the side and laughed with glee.”Confident, are we?”
“Always,” he said and brushed a faint kiss across her laughing lips.
Her laugh slowly faded, and the sudden concern in her dark eyes alarmed him.
“Tell me what troubles you.”
“The Ancient One.”
He had not expected such a direct and honest answer, and he did not expect her thoughts to be concerned with the Ancient One, but then the whole castle was aware of her impending visit and the reason behind it.
“You know her arrival is pending?” he asked, though the question itself was foolish.
“Who here doesn’t?”
“Many think her a mere legend.”
“They are foolish.”
“Perhaps more afraid,” he said. “Her powers are said to be unequaled, and I hear she has a temper.”
Sarina was unable to hide her smile. “I guess at her age she is entitled to throw a fit on occasion.”
“Do you think she was born with the dawn of time?”
Sarina seemed hesitant to answer. “I think it isn’t nice to refer to a woman’s age. Advice you might want to consider taking when you meet with her.”
So this was the reason for mentioning the Ancient One; she was attempting to determine if he still intended to meet with her. Sebastian was right, Sarina was a wise witch. But he was no dummy himself, and he had his own agenda concerning this matter, and supreme confidence all would work in his favor.
“I’ll heed your advice, though age has little bearing on a relationship,” he said candidly.
“So age matters not to you?”
“No, it doesn’t, the essence of the person is what is most important, especially if a relationship is to last, mature, evolve.”
“Then you don’t want your relationship standing still.”
“Heavens, no,” he said with a laugh. “That would be utterly boring. I want a relationship that challenges, expands, and evolves with the years. If we both were to remain the same or have so many similarities, we would grow bored with each other in no time. I would prefer to teach my lifemate and learn from her; this way our relationship would forever be evolving and strengthening in character and love.”
Sarina’s fascination was held firm. “What could you teach someone as old as the Ancient One?”
He answered quickly. “That there was much yet to learn.”
“She might take offense.”
He shook his head. “Not if she was wise; she would realize the truth of my words.”
“She would be lucky to have a mate like you.”
He heard the disappointment, almost sorrow, in her voice, and while he held the power to dispel her fears, he also held the power to strengthen her convictions. “What do you want in a mate?”
She shrugged as if she hadn’t given it thought, and yet he sensed she had given it considerable thought, and with his own curiosity rampant he intended to find out. He pursued answers.
“Does age matter to you?” he asked casually, his hand going to her face to tuck several strands of her dark hair behind her ear.
“No,” she answered quickly. “Age is not a consideration.”
His easy touch soothed her. He could see it in the way her body relaxed toward his. “Skills?” he asked in continued pursuit.
She pondered that question for a moment. “At one time I would have thought of them as important, but I must admit after meeting Sebastian he has changed my opinion on the matter.”
“Like him, do you?”
“Oh, yes,” she said with a generous smile. “He is so caring and charming, and he loves Ali so very much. And he possesses an uncommon strength of character.”
He was beginning to feel jealous and for no good reason, simply because she praised the qualities of another man. Still it annoyed him. “You think of him as uncommonly strong?”
“Yes,” she admitted with a firm nod. “How else would he deal with Ali?”
Dagon erupted into laughter, enjoying every minute of the hearty laughs that racked his body. When his laughter finally subsided, he agreed with her. “You are so right. It requires extreme, even outstanding, strength to cope with Ali.”
Her hand went to gently press at his chest, her fingers falling unintentionally between his opened robe to land on his warm flesh. Her unexpected simple touch caused a natural reaction; he grew hard.
“And love,” she insisted. “You mustn’t forget love. His strength is derived from his love for her.”
“You want that strong of a love.” It was not a question, simply a statement of fact.
“It is uncommon,” she said, as if suggesting it would be hard if not impossible to find.
“Rare,” he confirmed, aware that he already possessed the impossible and had no intentions of losing it. Not now, not ever, not to anyone, and that included the Ancient One.
Silence fell between them, and while no words were spoken, much was understood. They both were keenly aware of the other, of the strong passionate emotions surging through each of them, of the sense of connectedness, of the desire to join and be one.
“I think we should go upstairs,” he said in a whisper, moving his mouth closer to hers.
She reached out her lips to him. “Yes, upstairs, your bed.”
“You read my thoughts.” His lips swept across hers in two faint strokes.
“You know my desires,” she said, before catching his mouth with a gentle nip of her teeth.
Their lips joined then in a soft, teasing play; a prelude to deeper passion that simmered impatiently much too close to the surface.
“Upstairs now,” he nearly growled, “or I will take you on this table.”
She laughed deep and low and nipped more demandingly at his lower lip. “That sounds inviting.”
“Another time,” he promised, yanking her out of her chair and up into his arms. “Margaret is due here any minute, and I want more than a minute with you.”
She rested her head on his shoulder as he walked out of the kitchen, and she taunted him with nibbles and whispers to his ear. “Two minutes then?”
His voice was a low warning. “You’re asking for it, you know that, don’t you?”
She sighed like a petulant child and tormented his ear with her tongue before whispering, “Promises, promises.”
Shivers racked his body and a groan rumbled low in his throat as he headed up the stairs. “Be careful, Sarina.”
She gave his earlobe a rough yet playful bite, and then tormented his neck with a tickle of her tongue. “I don’t want to be careful, I want to be wicked.”
“Sarina, I’m—”
“Wet for you,” she finished for him, though they were not his words.
He groaned again, a primal, urgent groan.
“And you’re hard and aching for me, aren’t you?” Her question was but a murmur in his ear.
“Sarina.” Her name was a harsh, needy caution on his lips as he approached his bedroom.
A sensual whimper ran across his mouth before she stole anxious kisses from him. “I don’t want to wait. I want you now, right now.”
He almost laughed. In her attempt to seduce him, she had also seduced herself, and now they both were hot, ready, and impatient. He walked through his open bedroom door and slammed it shut with a kick of his foot.
He dumped her on the bed, opened his robe, spread her robe wide, and entered her in one sweeping motion.
She cried out with pleasure at the feel of his swift entrance, and together they forgot the world existed. They were aware only of this moment and the magic they created.
o0o
An hour later Sarina lay stretching on the bed like a pleased cat while Dagon admired her naked body.
“That felt so good,” she said, giving her feet an extra stretch.
“Which one, the stretch or the climax that had you almost screaming the castle walls down?”
She playfully swatted at his chest. “I was not that loud.”
He laughed. “Oh, yes you were, dear heart.”
She chose to defend her actions. “Well, it was an exceptional climax.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” he said with a smug smile.
She turned on her side and tenderly ran her finger over his swollen lips, where her nips had been less than gentle. “I’ve never failed in having a generous climax with you. You satisfy me most completely.”
Her sincere praise stroked in all the right places, and he chose to return the compliment with the same sincerity.
“The feeling is mutual.”
“I did not hurt you with my overzealous kisses?” she asked, her fingers faintly stroking his lips.
He kissed her fingers. “No, I quite enjoyed your frantic kisses and cherish the remembrance of them.”
Her smile was slow in forming when suddenly her eyes caught sight of the clock on his nightstand and widened considerably. With a rush and tumble of blankets she hurried off the bed before Dagon could stop her.
“Where are you going?” he demanded, watching her rush to dress.
“I promised Margaret I would help her with the morning meal,” she said, slipping an oatmeal-colored, ankle-length jumper over a brown knit top. Brown socks and brown ankle boots finished her outfit, and leaving her dark hair to fall naturally after a quick stroke of the brush, she headed for the door.
“Stop,” Dagon said much too demandingly to be ignored.
She looked with questioning eyes at him. “I promised.”
He got out of bed, slipping on his black robe. “And I specifically ordered you to refrain from doing any work in the castle without my permission.”
“Margaret needs help,” she insisted.
“Margaret got along quite nicely before your arrival. Now, do you want to tell me the truth of the matter?”
He remained by the bed, his arms folded across his chest, and waited for an answer.
She knew she had to be truthful, and besides, the situation had caused her some discomfort. “I don’t feel it is right that I am not carrying out my duties.”
He understood her concern. “Does the staff gossip?”
She frowned. “I think most are relieved that I am no longer working.”
He felt her disappointment in how others perceived her and how she perceived herself. “You enjoy helping Margaret in the kitchen?”
“Yes, she has taught me much, and I am becoming a good cook,” she said proudly.
“Then you may help Margaret, but”—his eyes cautioned, though his lips warmed with a smile—“not in the early morning.”
Sarina smiled with delight, ran up to him, deposited a hasty and kindly kiss on his lips, and dashed out of the room.
o0o
Sebastian was seated in the dining room enjoying scones and coffee when Dagon entered. “I wish I could steal Margaret from you. She is pure magic.”
“And yet uses none,” Dagon said, joining him at the table and pouring himself a cup of steaming coffee from the silver coffeepot.
“Well, she certainly has a magical touch when it comes to food.” Sebastian helped himself to another scone, a blueberry one. He was about to spread a generous portion of honey butter on the warm scone when he looked to Dagon.
“Maybe you can explain something that has bothered me.”
“If I can, I’d be happy to.”
“I keep wondering why, with Ali’s powers, she just can’t whip up a decent meal. She is simply useless in the kitchen.”
Dagon reached for a cranberry scone. “Have you ever watched Ali attempt to whip something up?”
“No, but I’ve seen the battlefield when she’s done.”
Dagon laughed. “The kitchen does look like a war zone when she gets finished.”
“She’s battle-scarred herself,” Sebastian said with a laugh and a shake of his head.
Dagon spread a liberal amount of honey butter on his scone. “Watch her in the kitchen when she is about to prepare a dish.”
“Only if I get to wear full protective armor,” Sebastian joked.
“You’ll need it. Ali has a tendency to change recipes as she goes along, adding this, taking out that. When we were young, she even changed the recipe for mud pies.”
“Mud pies? But mud pies are nothing but mud and water, what could she change?”
“She decided that the pies needed crunch so she added sand, and then she thought the pies too dark, so she added grass for color, and then she felt they needed a topping, so she placed a ring of pebbles around her pie.”
“What did the finished pie look like?”
“You don’t want to know, and besides, it didn’t matter. She claimed my mud pie as hers and won the acclaim of the forest fairies for the best structured and prepared mud pie of the class.”
“And you?” Sebastian asked, attempting to hide a laugh.
“While the fairies praised my creative nature, they explained that the ingredients and consistency of a mud pie is what gives the pie its character; therefore, I was given extra lessons in mud-pie making.”
“So what you’re basically telling me is that Ali marches to the beat of a different drummer.”
“She doesn’t even hear the same tune as anybody else.”
Both men laughed.
With his laughter subsiding and his smile still warm, Dagon said, “But Ali is a gem you are lucky to have.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more. I’m a very lucky man.”
“That you are,” Ali said, entering the room. She wore a pale gray knit dress that wrapped and curved with precise precision around her body, down to her ankles, where it met with black suede boots. Her hair was pinned haphazardly here and there. Several free blond strands tickled her face and neck and made her look utterly appealing.
Sebastian held his hand out to her. She took it and kissed him softly on the lips. “Hmmm, blueberry,” she said with a lick of her lips after tasting him. “I must get the recipe.”
Dagon mouthed good luck to Sebastian. Sebastian simply shook his head.
Conversation turned to old friends and the approaching holiday.
“Will you be home for the Winter Solstice and Christmas?” Dagon asked of them.
Ali answered. “Yes, the Wyrrd Foundation has several holiday events planned, and with this, our first holiday season together, we hoped to spend it at home.”
“What about you?” Sebastian asked Dagon.
“There are usually a number of parties to attend; invitations have already come in for several.”
“You don’t sound enthusiastic about them,” Ali said.
“I was thinking that perhaps this year I would spend a quiet holiday at home.”
“Doing what?” Ali asked, staring directly at him as she waited for an answer.
He tapped her nose. “Decorating the castle, stringing popcorn for the tree, greeting the dawn of a new tomorrow after the passing away of the longest day of the year.”
Ali reached her hand out to Sebastian. “You should share the joy of the Winter Solstice with someone.”
“I love the Winter Solstice,” Sarina said, entering the room with a platter of steaming scrambled eggs. Her face was flushed red from the rising steam, and she wore a broad smile that was too contagious to ignore and brought a round of smiles from the table.
Janey followed her in placing a platter of sausages and bacon on the table and then taking her leave.
“Join us,” Dagon said, though it was more a demand that was not meant to be ignored.
Sarina gladly took the seat to his right across the table from Sebastian and Ali. It took no coercing for everyone to help themselves. Everyone immediately dug in, and the conversation continued around the flourish of passing plates.
“I love gathering the pine to make swags and wreaths and then decorating them with berries and pinecones,” Sarina said with excitement. “Oh, and picking a Yule log, that’s so important because it must last and burn steadily. And of course there are the special candles that must be made and empowered with the birth of a new dawn. Margaret and I were just discussing how we should get started on the preparations.”
Sebastian listened with interest to Sarina.
Ali and Dagon listened with curiosity.
“Candles empowered with the birth of a new dawn?” Sebastian asked.
Sarina realized then she had said too much.
Dagon answered his question. “It is a very old custom known and practiced by wise witches. The Winter Solstice is considered a time of death and rebirth. The day is dark for the longest time of the year, the sun dies, the harvest cycle ends, and with the dawn of a new day comes a birth, an awakening of a new cycle and life begins again. The wise witches would cast candles on the solstice imbibing them with their powers. Legend has it that the candles cast by a witch on the Winter Solstice will last all year long.”
“Wow,” Sebastian said, impressed, and asked his wife. “Can you do that?”
Ali slowly shook her head. “No, my powers aren’t that old or strong.”
“You’re not a wise witch yet,” Sebastian said, beginning to understand the nature of the craft.
“Not in the true sense of the word,” Ali confirmed and looked to Sarina. “How do you know of the legend?”
“You mean it’s not true?” Sebastian asked disappointed.
“It’s true,” Sarina assured him with a forced smile. She was on shaky ground here, and while she could not deny the truth of her heritage, neither could she admit the whole truth of her existence.
Curiosity had Dagon on edge, but Sebastian’s need for solid reason had him beating Dagon to the question. “How do you know this?”
How did she avoid telling them that she was a wise witch who cast candles on the Winter Solstice? How did she avoid admitting her secret?
Sydney solved her problem by strolling into the room and calmly announcing, “The Ancient One arrives in two weeks’ time.”